


Final Exam

by IdMonster



Category: Original Work
Genre: Being Raped as Warrior/Military Training, Breast Play, F/F, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Forced Orgasm, Forced To Perform Oral, Humiliation, Impromptu Use Of Props, Mind Games, Object Insertion, Vaginal Fingering, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdMonster/pseuds/IdMonster
Summary: The agency thinks its agents should learn to withstand rape through firsthand experience. The senior agent steps up to the task.





	Final Exam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kmfillz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmfillz/gifts).



> Thank you for your wonderfully inspiring letter, from which I stole my summary. I hope you enjoy my story.

“Trainee Reynolds!”

“Yes, sir!” I kept my voice and face neutral, as we’d been taught, but inside I was eager to begin my final exam before I too would become an agent. 

“Report to room 105 immediately.” Agent Moore’s perfect deadpan cracked for the briefest of instants, showing a flash of sympathy, as he added, “Good luck.”

I was still pondering that as I reached room 105. Had the sympathy been real? Or yet another mind game, put on in order to scare me? The agents at the academy were excellent actors, and even after all my training, it was very hard to tell when they were acting and when they were sincere. 

I shrugged to myself. We all assumed that the final exam would be something along the lines of SERE training: Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape. And since we’d already done grueling survival, evasion, and escape training, resistance was the only thing left. 

How do you learn to resist torture? By being tortured. 

But just a little. Not enough to cause any permanent damage. Only enough to weed out the last remaining trainees who didn’t have the right stuff. 

It wasn’t that I looked forward to being tortured. Of course I didn’t. But I did look forward to proving how much I could endure—proving it not only to the agency, but to myself.

And, of course, if I performed well, I’d walk out of the exam not as Trainee Reynolds, but as Agent Reynolds. 

Yeah. I was looking forward to it. 

I knocked on the door of room 105. 

“Come in,” called a female voice.

I recognized it as belonging to one of our instructors, Agent Walker. She’d taught electronic surveillance. I remembered her for being even more highly competent than was the norm for agents here, and for her age. I’d found it encouraging that a woman who looked no more than five years older than me was already an instructor. I’d respected and looked up to all the agents… but I’d respected and looked up to her the most. 

I opened the door. To my surprise, I walked into an ordinary office. I’d expected a mock-up of a cell. But there was Agent Walker in her usual business suit and polished black pumps, sitting behind a desk.

“Hello, Trainee Reynolds,” Agent Walker said. Then, oddly, she added, “Beth.”

I hadn’t heard my first name in six months. For a second, I didn’t recognize it as my own. 

“So.” She crossed her ankles under the desk. “I expect you’re wondering why you’re here.”

What I was wondering was if we’d all been completely wrong about the torture, and the final exam was actually a non-physical interrogation exercise. That line certainly pointed in that direction. In which case an admission of curiosity (or anything else) would be a very bad slip.

“I was told to report here,” I returned. 

“Drop the verbal fencing. This isn’t an interrogation exercise. It’s your final exam. And it takes place right here. Right now.” Agent Walker smiled in a way that made me think of the sharp teeth behind her lips. I knew she was deliberately trying to unnerve me, so I made sure she couldn’t see that it was working. Her eyes glittered strangely as she went on, “You know what happens to an agent who gets captured by the enemy.”

“Torture,” I replied, after I realized that she was awaiting a response. 

“Yes, of course. But that’s not only sleep deprivation and beatings and electric shock.” She paused again, and deliberately looked me up and down in a way that made me feel deeply uncomfortable. It took me a moment to realize why: she was mentally undressing me. Just as I figured that out, she added, “Rape is also very common. Perhaps the most common.”

In my mind, I saluted whoever had designed this exam, and Agent Walker too. This was much more unsettling than simply being shown to a cell. They’d managed to get me scared by making rape threats, even though, obviously, they couldn’t so much as lay a finger on me in a sexual way. 

I nodded, keeping a look of polite expectation on my face. _Ball’s in your court, Agent Walker._

She spoke before an uncomfortable pause could develop, her tone as businesslike as if she was announcing a change of venue. “Since it’s something many of our agents will have to endure at some point in their careers, we believe that they should learn to withstand it from firsthand experience.”

I didn’t respond, torn between boggling that the agency was taking the game this far and trying to figure out what the hell sort of response I was supposed to give. 

Agent Walker snapped her fingers. “Strip.”

I turned my back on her and strode toward the door, my heart pounding, hoping to hell that it was a decision that would get me a passing grade. In the few steps it took to get there, I kept expecting to hear Agent Walker’s voice telling me to stop, that I’d passed the first part of the test and now we’d go on to the next. Or that I’d failed for walking out rather than staying where I was and continuing to verbally resist.

The door wouldn’t open. 

I rattled it, puzzled, then turned around, just in time to see Agent Walker step out from behind the desk. She paced toward me like a stalking cat, her pumps making precise clicks on the hardwood floor.

“This isn’t a bluff,” she said. “The doors locked automatically. The room is soundproof. Now strip. It’ll go easier on you if you don’t fight.”

I still didn’t believe it. I _couldn’t_ believe it. Until she backed me up to the locked door and shoved her hand down the front of my pants.

So many emotions jolted through me—horror, shock, disbelief—that I stood there as if I was paralyzed. Her hand pushed under my panties, and she roughly thrust two fingers into the folds of my labia. They slid easily. 

“You slut,” she exclaimed, in a tone halfway between disgust and delight. “Look how wet you are already!”

At that, my disbelief broke, replaced by fury. I tried to jerk away, and simultaneously swung my foot, trying to clip her ankles and take her down. 

But she was far faster than me. And not just faster, but stronger and, crucially, more experienced. My foot connected with nothing, and I was slammed back against the wall with her forearm across my throat. If I were to struggle, she’d choke me out. 

Her face was inches from mine. I could feel her warm breath. She thrust her fingers in deeper, then pulled them apart to stretch me out. It was rough, and it hurt. I stood stock-still, more from shock as anything else.

She licked the side of my neck, making me jump, then licked her lips. “I taste salt. You’re sweating. From fear? Or excitement?”

A hot tide of shame and fury made my face burn. But I knew the truth of what she’d said. This horrific violation _was_ my final exam. I had to endure it, or I wouldn’t pass. 

“From heat,” I said. “Turn up the air conditioning.”

But I heard my voice wobble, and was immediately angry and ashamed of myself. I _had_ to do better than this!

Agent Walker’s eyes gleamed, and her lips once again parted in that catlike smile. I was horribly conscious of her fingers penetrating me as she spoke. “I think it’s both. Fear _and_ excitement. I can play you like a fiddle, my dear. Watch. I’m going to increase your fear now.”

She unexpectedly thrust the rest of her hand into me. The pain was so sharp and sudden that I barely managed to bite back a scream. Tears came to my eyes. I blinked fiercely, but I knew I wasn’t concealing anything. Agent Walker had been watching my face intently the entire time.

“This is just the beginning.” She withdrew her hand until only her fingertips were inside me, then suddenly plunged it in again, all the way to the wrist.

I didn’t scream, but my entire body jerked. A drop of sweat ran down my cheek. 

“See?” Agent Walker said pleasantly. “Fear. Oh, and more sweat. I love the taste of that when it’s fresh and clean.”

Her pink tongue flicked out and caught the drop. I tried to jerk away, but she pinned me in place. With her forearm tight across my throat and her hand buried all the way inside me, she licked her way up my cheek and to my hairline, then down again. 

All the while, she stroked my inner walls, running one finger along them at a time so I could feel it distinctly inside of me. Every now and then, she used her nails, making me flinch. I’d never had anyone put their entire hand inside me before. It stretched me more than I’d ever been stretched. 

Every time the burning subsided, she moved her hand, first thrusting, then closing it into a fist, then thrusting the fist. Every time, the painful stretching and burning started again, making me twitch and sweat. And every time, she licked up the sweat.

I stood shaking with horror and shame and—yes—fear. Not fear that she would kill me. Fear of what she’d do next. It was all the more hideous that out of all the instructors, she’d been my favorite. It was such a betrayal that a woman I’d liked and respected would violate me like this. 

Had she been ordered to do this to me? Had all the instructors picked names out of a hat? Or had she volunteered?

Maybe she was here because she wanted to be here. She sure seemed to be enjoying herself. The thought nauseated me. 

It was so awful to stand there while a woman I’d admired and hoped to be like some day had me pushed up against the wall and was fisting me without my consent, shoving her fingers in painfully, humiliatingly, and deep. 

I forced my mind away from obsessing over the fact that it was Agent Walker. 

_I’ve endured lots of unfun things in training,_ I told myself. _This is just one more. I walked in here prepared to be tortured!_

I tried to crush the conviction that I would have preferred torture. 

Agent Walker pulled her hand out of me at last, leaving a wet trail up my belly, then held it before my face. It was slick and glistening, and I could smell my own scent on it. It made me feel sick with betrayal and humiliation. 

“Lick it clean,” she ordered. 

“Fuck you,” I blurted out. “Go ahead and choke me out. You can do whatever the hell you like while I’m unconscious.”

Her forearm pressed down on my throat. Rather than knocking me out by cutting off the blood to my brain, she was slowly reducing the amount of air I could breathe in. 

I knew she wouldn’t kill me. I _knew_ it. But my body didn’t. Deprived of oxygen, I couldn’t help panicking. I fought frantically, hopelessly, terrified at a primal level that no amount of willpower could control.

She released the pressure. I sagged against the wall, gasping, my throat sore. And, though I hated myself for it, I was grateful.

Agent Walker wiggled her fingers in front of my nose, sending up another wave of my own scent. “Lick me clean. And I mean _clean_.”

My eyes stung with tears of misery. I hated myself at how quickly and easily I’d caved. But I was too scared of being strangled again to refuse. I leaned forward.

Agent Walker tauntingly moved her hand a little way back, making me crane my neck. “Stick out your tongue.”

My entire body burned with shame. But I had no choice. I stuck out my tongue and licked her hand. My neck cramped and my tongue quickly got tired, and the sadistic glee in Agent Walker’s face was worst of all. She turned her hand until I’d gotten every single bit. It was endless. But, I hoped, once I was done she’d let me go. And that thought, plus the warning pressure on my throat every instant that my pace slacked, got me through it. 

When I was finally done, she contemptuously wiped her hand off on my hair while I writhed inside with humiliation. 

“An office is so full of useful implements,” she said meditatively. “You know how to repurpose, say, a pen as a bugging device or a weapon. Let me show you another use.”

She walked to the desk, selected a pen from a holder, and came back with it. She unzipped my pants and shoved them down along with my underwear, letting it all fall around my ankles. Then she took the pen from the desk and pushed it up my cunt, thrusting it in and out. It didn’t hurt, but it was as bad as anything else she’d done to me, penetrating me with a ridiculous object to make me feel like my own rape was nothing but a joke. 

When she was finally done, she tossed it aside. I watched it roll across the floor, remembering what she’d said about using a pen as a weapon. I suddenly also realized that I could attack her now. Her forearm was no longer at my throat. I’d been so caught up in my own humiliation that I hadn’t even realized.

As if she’d read my mind, she shook her finger at me as if I was a small, naughty child. “Ah-ah-ah, Bethie. Don’t forget, this is your final exam. Can’t kill the instructor… Well, you couldn’t anyway, but there’s no point trying. For one thing, you’ll just get yourself hurt. For another thing, it won’t get you extra points.”

For some reason, the “Bethie” made me angrier than when she’d shoved a pen up my cunt. 

“Fuck you!” I spat out, wishing I knew her first name so I could use some infantilizing diminutive on _her._

“Why, what an excellent idea.” She gave me a bright smile. “Don’t mind if you do.”

While I watched in disbelief, Agent Walker strolled to the chair behind the desk and sat in it. It was a big wooden desk, with plenty of space beneath it, so I could see her squirm out of her panties and drop them to the floor, then spread her legs. 

“Crawl on up, and eat me out,” she ordered. “If you don’t make me come, you fail the exam.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding!” I heard my voice rise in a shriek. “You want me over there, you better fucking drag me!”

“Nope.” She gave me that bright smile again. It made me want to kill her. “Remember the purpose of the exam. In field conditions, you’d be compelled with a gun to your head. I can’t make a plausible threat to kill you, because you know I can’t carry it out. But I can make a plausible threat to fail you, and I _will_ carry it out. Get naked and crawl to me with your tits swinging, or you’ll never be an agent.”

I hesitated. 

She added, “And then everything I’ve already done to you will have been for nothing.”

That did it. I stepped out of my pants and underwear, leaving them puddled on the floor, and bent to take off my shoes. 

“Turn around when you do that,” Agent Walker called. “You know why.”

Burning with embarassment and rage, I turned around and bent over, letting her get a good look at my ass. I unbuckled my shoes and stepped out of them, then straightened and reached for my blouse.

“On second thought, keep the shoes,” said Agent Walker.

“What the fuck, you fucking bitch!” I yelled. 

All I got in response was a very satisfied-sounding chuckle. As I once again bent over, this time to put my shoes back on, I told myself to stop yelling. She obviously enjoyed it, so I shouldn’t give her the pleasure. 

Armed with my determination to keep silent, I stripped off my blouse and bra, then got down on my hands and knees. Reluctantly, I began to crawl toward the desk.

“Ohh, yes,” breathed Agent Walker. “Just like that. I love watching you degrade yourself.”

I crawled faster to cut down on her viewing time.

“Wow, you’re really eager to go down on me,” she remarked.

I knew what game she was playing. But that didn’t make it any easier to take. 

I crawled under the desk and crouched in front of her. She spread her legs wider, thrusting her pink cunt at me. Then she reached under the desk and grabbed my nipples. I couldn’t help letting out a choked cry of pain as she used them to yank me closer to her cunt.

I hurriedly began to lick at her slick folds and clitoris. Going down on a woman was nothing new to me. But it was also nothing that I’d ever imagined being forced to do. That brought a unique horror to the violation.

As I licked and sucked at her cunt, she fondled my breasts, sometimes pinching my nipples painfully, sometimes giving them soft strokes and caresses. I hated those even more than the pinches. She had no right to touch me like a lover.

I was forced to pay careful attention to Agent Walker’s reactions: what made her breath quicken and her caresses grow more frantic, and what seemed to bore or displease her. It was infuriating to be forced to please the woman raping me, but I had no choice. She apparently liked quick flicking licks at her clitoris, and for me to run my tongue along her labia, so that was what I had to do, keeping at it as she got wetter and wetter, and finally started moaning. 

To my horror, I felt myself getting wet. I didn’t want to enjoy this myself—I _didn’t_ enjoy it! But something about it was making my body respond. As I licked Agent Walker’s slick folds and heard her gasp and moan, my own clit swelled and throbbed, and little shivers of arousal pulsed up and down my spine. 

What sort of person was I, to get turned on by being violated and forced? But the more ashamed I got, the wetter I got. I wanted to plug my ears, but Agent Walker’s loud moans were getting to me in a way that I was helpless to prevent.

 _Just make her come_ , I thought to myself. _Once she comes, it’ll all be over._

She took her own sweet time about it, but finally I gave a lick to her clit, and she came with a short scream. Her hands clamped down on my breasts, and the crushing pain drove away my obscene arousal. It was a huge relief. 

I jerked my head away and wiped my mouth. But I wasn’t surprised when Agent Walker ordered, in a repulsively languourous voice, “Lick me clean.”

I did, hoping she wouldn’t notice that I was wet myself. I was naked and had no way to hide it. But nothing had spilled over, so she wouldn’t notice unless she actually touched me.

Agent Walker gave a satisfied sigh. “Oh, I enjoyed that. Trainee Reynolds, you’re free to—”

My heart leaped at the thought of this finally, _finally_ being over. It sank again as she broke off. 

“Oh, wait,” she said. “One more thing. I told you I could play you like a violin. And I have. I’ve made you scared, angry, and humiliated, and I’ve made you acquiesce to things I bet you thought you’d rather die than do. But there’s one thing I haven’t done, and that’s make you enjoy it. That will be next.”

My resolve to keep silent broke. “Yeah, right!”

“Such witty comebacks,” she taunted. “Please, keep them coming.”

I clenched my jaw and prepared to endure another molesting session. At least she hadn’t _ordered_ me to come. Though, I supposed, I’d just have faked it. 

She got up and walked out from around the desk. I was so rattled that I didn’t think to get out from under it until she was standing in the middle of the room. 

“Crawl,” she ordered.

Furious, I crawled up to her. 

“Now lie down on your back with your legs spread.” 

I thought of fighting her again, but I knew I couldn’t win. By then I was so beaten down and exhausted, I just wanted it to be over. Fighting her would do nothing but delay the inevitable, and so make the entire thing last longer.

“Like a delicious banquet, all for me,” purred Agent Walker. 

She knelt over me and stroked one finger into my cunt. I clenched my jaw, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, she exclaimed, “Oh, you’re so wet already! You _do_ love it. This must be the easiest thing you’ve ever done at the academy.”

I lashed out at her, forgetting both my resolve and all my training, moved by nothing but sheer blinding rage. Agent Walker shifted to the side, so I just missed, caught my arm, and twisted it painfully over my head.

“Try anything like that again, and I’ll keep this going for an extra hour,” she said. 

I subsided, muttering, “Just get on with it.”

“Oh, I will,” she replied.

She released my arm and began lightly stroking my body. I lay still, forcing myself not to shudder. But as she kept caressing me, sliding her hands over my belly and teasing my nipples with her fingertips, I had to repress my shudders for another reason: my goddamn body was once again responding. My nipples hardened, and little tremors of arousal shivered through my body. I bit my cheek to stop it, but the pain only added to the general sense of intensity. I was getting wet again, too. 

I lay there and hated myself.

By the time Agent Walker worked her way down to my inner thighs, I was so wet that I overflowed and dripped on to her fingers. 

She looked into my eyes and smiled. “I thought this would be hard, but I’m hardly even going to touch you before you go off like a rocket. Just watch, you’re going to pant and gasp and thrust up at me when I put my fingers inside you.” 

She dipped her fingers into my slick folds, stroking up to my clitoris. I didn’t want to like it. I _didn’t_ like it. But it felt so good. Against my will, I panted and gasped and thrusted up at her. I was horribly ashamed of myself, but that didn’t stop me. I lay there on the floor, writhing and moaning as my rapist fingered me. I knew she’d make me come, and watch it and gloat, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. 

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” Agent Walker murmured. 

I was moaning helplessly, unable to do so much as close my mouth. I was so close to orgasm, every part of me yearned for it. 

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” she said. “But you have to say it right now.”

I couldn’t make myself tell her to stop and I wouldn’t beg her to go on. A strangled groan escaped my lips.

“I didn’t hear a ‘stop,’” she said. 

And she bent down and laid her hot mouth on my cunt. 

I came so hard, I almost blacked out. 

A moment later, I found myself shaking on the floor. I didn’t even try to get up, but lay in a heap, my own fluids and Agent Walker’s smeared all over my body, my hair wet, my face tracked with tears and sweat. My throat was sore and my cunt was sorer. I felt used and betrayed, angry and ashamed and overall wretched. But I kept my jaw clenched to stop myself from sobbing. I had that much pride left, at least. 

“We’re done here.”

I flinched at the sound of her voice. Then the words sank in. I looked up, barely daring to hope that they were true.

Agent Walker was standing over me. “Stand up… Agent Reynolds.” 

_Agent Reynolds_. It was everything I’d dreamed of—longed for—endured for. 

But did it make the rape worth it? 

_Just another bad thing to endure in a lifetime full of highs and lows,_ I told myself. _No worse than the torture resistance session I’d expected._

I hoped that some day I’d believe that. 

Agent Walker extended a hand to me. I gritted my teeth and took it, just to prove to myself and her that I could. But I stood up under my own power, not letting any of my weight rest on her upward tug. Once I was on my feet, I released her hand: not like it was a red-hot coal or a slug, but as if she was any agent giving me a simple hand up.

She indicated a door. “There’s a bathroom in there. It has a shower and a change of clothes. You can take as much time as you want. It has a door leading out, so you don’t have to walk through this room to leave. Once you’re done, report to the infirmary for a medical examination and treatment plus psychological debriefing. Then you’ll get a week to recuperate, followed by the graduation ceremony.” 

She spoke with all the brisk professionalism I remembered from her surveillance class. There was no trace, either in her voice or demeanor, of the sadistic rapist who’d been tormenting me just few minutes ago.

Her class. God. That felt like a lifetime ago.

When I didn’t speak, she asked, simply and without a trace of mockery, “Any questions?”

There _was_ something I wondered about: had she raped me voluntarily, or was this her test too? Was committing rape as much a part of agent training as enduring it? 

If it was her test, then she was no different from me—just an agent proving that she could perform under pressure. But if that was true, then some day I’d have to rape a young trainee. 

I didn’t know which explanation I wanted to believe. If she’d volunteered, then I’d never have to do it myself. But that would also mean that the agent I’d admired had raped me because she wanted to. 

“No,” I said. “No questions.”


End file.
